


Nightmare

by Cantatrice18



Category: Matilda (1996), Matilda - Roald Dahl
Genre: Adoption, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-14 19:44:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantatrice18/pseuds/Cantatrice18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trunchbull is gone, but the memories of her still remain, especially for the one person who was hurt the most by her cruelty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was one week after Matilda’s surprise adoption that she first heard it. She’d stayed up way past her bedtime, reading a book Ms. Honey had given her, and had just reached the final chapter when the strangest sound met her ears. She tiptoed out into the hall, following the noise until she found herself at the door to Ms. Honey’s bedroom. The door swung open silently at her command, and she crossed to Ms. Honey’s bed, gazing down at the young woman as she slept. Ms. Honey’s face looked frightened, even in sleep, and she tossed and turned so often that the covers had nearly fallen to the floor. She let out a moan and Matilda quickly sat on the side of the bed, reaching out a trembling hand to touch Ms. Honey’s arm. The moment her fingers grazed the woman’s warm skin, Ms. Honey’s eyes shot open and she let out a gasp.

“It’s alright, Ms. Honey, it’s just me,” Matilda said, trying to hide the anxiety from her voice.

Ms. Honey took a few deep breaths before responding. “Matilda. You shouldn’t be up so late, not with school in the morning.”

“Was it about the Trunchbull?” Matilda scooted closer to the head of the bed until she could take Ms. Honey’s hand in hers. “Your nightmare, I mean.”

Ms. Honey hesitated, then nodded. “I suppose… I guess it’s just hard to believe she’s really gone.”

“She is, though.” Matilda gazed seriously into the woman’s eyes. “She’ll never come back to this house, and she’ll never hurt you again.”

To Matilda’s shock, Ms. Honey’s eyes filled with tears, and she gathered the child into her arms so that Matilda’s head rested on her shoulder. “Oh, Matilda,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion, “What would I do without you?”

Matilda hugged Ms. Honey tightly. “I could say the same thing to you. You rescued me –“

“Oh no,” Ms. Honey protested, her voice dropping to a whisper. “No, it was you who did the rescuing. You saved me from my aunt, who’d hurt me in so many ways ever since I was even younger than you. I can’t even remember the time before she came here, and she was so menacing and so very, very strong. I never could have stood up to her, never even thought of it, until you came along. Thank you, dearest.”

Matilda stroked the woman’s back, feeling a hot tear land upon her shoulder. It occurred to her that it might take Ms. Honey a long time to heal from everything Trunchbull had done to her. To be forced to live with a monster like that for so long, to be bullied and abused... something the Trunchbull had said on the very last day of her reign at school came drifting through Matilda’s memory: “I broke your arm once, I’ll do it again.” As Matilda ran a hand down Ms. Honey’s arm, she felt a small, neat scar that could only have come from surgery. The feel of it beneath her fingers made rage rise within her, but she shoved it aside. Now was not the time for that; Ms. Honey needed her. “It will be alright, Ms. Honey, I’m here now, and I won’t leave you, not ever.”  



	2. Chapter 2

It was later, long after Miss Honey had fallen asleep, that Matilda began wondering about the nature of their bond. In sleep, the woman beside her seemed untroubled, younger, and it was not hard for Matilda to feel as though Miss Honey was her sister, or her best friend, someone she could talk with freely and openly without fear of ridicule. She’d though of her teacher as a mentor of sorts when they’d met, but their relationship shifted entirely the moment Miss Honey opened up about her childhood. Matilda’s imagination was, thanks to her voracious reading, quite vivid. It was not hard for her to piece together images from what she knew of Ms. Trunchbull’s attitude towards children, and apply those snippets to her own memories of the gentle and timid Miss Honey. Everything clicked into place in her mind, like it did in the stories of Hercule Poirot or Sherlock Holmes, and from that moment on she was no longer an adoring student, but a protector. Tales of knights and heroes, from Ivanhoe to Perseus, taught her to be a champion of justice and fight for what she believed. Her memories had scanned through her months at Crunchem Hall, tracing back each moment she’d seen the Trunchbull and Miss Honey together, remembering the way Miss Honey’s voice would pitch just a tad bit higher at the mention of the Trunchbull’s name. Matilda doubted if she would ever know just how Ms. Trunchbull had mistreated and enslaved her young niece, and a part of her did not want to know. The pain it gave Miss Honey to even speak of that time in her life was enough information.

Matilda shook her head to clear it of such dark thoughts, careful not disturb the woman beside her. No, they were no longer like friends. Miss Honey felt like, like a responsibility, but not in the bad way. It was as though Matilda had adopted Miss Honey, rather than the other way around. It struck her, suddenly and without warning, that Miss Honey was technically old enough to be her mother. She would have been quite young to have a child, certainly, but not much younger than Matilda’s own mother Zinnia had been when she’d given birth to Matilda’s brother. The idea of Miss Honey as her mother, her real mother, was simultaneously so wonderful and absurd that Matilda could not stifle a giggle. Miss Honey shifted, and in an instant Matilda was serious once more, stroking the woman’s hair and watching anxiously until she was sure Miss Honey slept peacefully again. Teacher, sister, friend, mother – it didn’t matter, really, in the end. Miss Honey was hers to protect. For the first time, she felt true, honest love for an adult, and no enemy, real or imagined, could be allowed near someone so special; Matilda simply wouldn’t permit it to occur.


End file.
